Being in control

Last week I had an epiphany. I had been wallowing and whining and complaining about not being allowed to be strong. About feeling like my gym didn’t value strength and played into the whole women are the weaker sex stereotype.

My epiphany?

Since when is anyone else in charge of how I’m allowed to feel? When did I give them control of my abilities? When did I start living below the line?

(Sidenote: above and below the line is a favourite term of my Dad’s – living above the line is taking responsibility and living below the line is making excuses).

Last week, I took back control. I pulled out my old strength workouts from Canada and modified them to suit the equipment my gym has. I used heavier weights. I channeled Joe the Devil and used his voice as my inner voice instead of the excuse making voice I had there. I banished my doubts.

My body ached all week. I loved it.

Sure, I lost absolutely no weight when I weighed in and it bummed me out for a minute. And then I remembered that it’s that time of the month and I never lose weight. And we had a lovely social weekend and I enjoyed it.

(Sidenote #2: Can you guess that the sun is out a bit more today and I’m not feeling so grey?)

Yesterday DID suck even more at the end of the day when BRILLIANT me left the car lights on while I was at the gym so my battery is dead as a DOORNAIL. It was pouring with rain last night so we didn’t chance jumpstarting it, but we’ll go back tonight and do it (if it’s not raining). I know I’m not the first to do it and I won’t be the last, but boy, did I feel like an idiot. Ah well, you live and learn.

And that’s the motto I need to follow. Live. Learn. Repeat.

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